


beautiful things

by kimwexler



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, I'm so sorry, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Military, also fuck the us military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimwexler/pseuds/kimwexler
Summary: Bill makes the choice to go to college, leaving Ted to wind up in the military. Angst ensues.
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq., Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52





	beautiful things

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Aqua and Mandy for proofreading!

It’s a strange thing, how beautiful everything can be before getting the worst kind of news.

Ted can still picture the sunset the day his mom told him that she was divorcing his dad. It was almost ten years ago at this point, but whenever he recalls one of the worst moments of his life, the main thing he can remember was the colors of the sky.

The same went for when his dog, Patches, died. While the image of his labrador being placed in a shallow grave should be what he remembers, Ted can only recollect how wonderful her fur looked in the sun. It was such a miserable moment, a boy losing his dog, but there was still beauty blanketing the scene. A dismal memory buried in wonder.

Now, sitting in the passenger seat of Bill’s car, he can only focus on the lapping waves in front of him. He should be paying attention as his friend strings along such terrifying words as ‘college’, ‘future’, and ‘back-up’, but Ted can’t hear anything Bill’s saying. The only thing that’s being processed is the glittering ocean and the seagulls that keep dipping into it like suicide bombers.

“Hey!” Bill says almost sharply, noticing that Ted hasn’t been listening to anything he was saying. “This is important to me, dude. You’re not listening!”

Ted blinks, breaking his line of sight from the beach, then sheepishly looks over at Bill. “Sorry.” He says meekly. “Start over?”

Bill sighs. Ted can tell he wants to be annoyed, but Bill can probably read the look of dread on his friend’s face. His tone softens, trying to soften the blow. “I’m going to college dude.”

Judging by the words that had snaked into his daze, Ted knew it was coming, but that didn’t keep his heart from dropping to his shoes. He has no idea what to say, so Bill fills the silence with an explanation. “My dad made a big donation to the school, and they agreed to let me in.”

The whole idea of Bill going to college seems so foreign to Ted. Higher learning never felt like an option for either of them. Their guidance counselor made them both fill out applications for schools littered across California, and still, each and every letter was met with denial. At the time, it felt like confirmation from God or the universe or whatever that the boys’ path was headed towards music, and to be traveled together. 

Ted’s dad and Bill’s parents, of course, gave the boys hell for their decision, but every time they were given a lecture, it was easy to tune it out. All they knew was that Wyld Stallyns was their life now, and nothing could get in the way. Except this, though, Ted guesses. 

“What about the band, dude?” This is all that Ted can say. He’s honestly more worried about having his friend up and leave him, but it isn’t his style to proclaim his fear, especially when the fear was something so… well, gay. It is much easier just to camouflage any love he held in this strange obsession with Wyld Stallyns. 

Bill shakes his head, struggling to find a response. It takes a second, but eventually, he just motions to the water, and the hazy San Dimas skyline sitting on the horizon. “This isn’t the only thing to see in the world, dude.” He says. Then, after a second, “You’re not the only person to meet, either.”

He didn’t mean to sound mean, but the words cut deep, with Ted already feeling so beat down from the news. “Can you take me home?” Ted says quietly.

The ride back from the beach is silent. Bill offers up plenty of conversation, ranging from apology to arguments, but Ted never answers. Even when Bill pulls up to Ted’s house and offers a final sorry and a quiet goodbye, Ted doesn’t respond and leaves without saying a word, slamming the car door behind him. He knows how much Bill hates that. 

Over the next few days, Bill calls Ted almost every waking hour. At first, Deacon would answer, padding up to Ted’s room to tell him he’s got a call waiting for him downstairs, but after a while, the message is received, and Deacon stops bringing Ted the phone. Soon after that, Bill stops calling too.

There were times where Bill will drop by the house and ask if Ted was around, even if he knew he wasn’t wanted. Everyone in the house was instructed to cover for Ted’s absence, which Captain Logan was, of course, pleased with. Even if he was told Ted was out, (which he never was), Bill would still sit across the street in his car for a few hours. Eventually, September rolls around, and Bill stops showing up entirely. Sometimes, Ted wonders if he would still be showing up if it wasn’t for school.

It isn’t long after Bill’s absence that Captain Logan suggests going into the military. And Ted, despite thinking he could never and would never do such a thing, agrees. College definitely wasn’t an option, and sitting around San Dimas for the rest of his life seemed most dreadful. As Bill said, this isn’t the only thing to see in the world. Besides, if Bill wasn’t here anymore, there was no more Wyld Stallyns. His lifelong dream was shot. Might as well find something else to do, even if it was mind-crushingly bogus. 

Before he knows it, Ted has filled out all the enrollment paperwork, and he’s shipped off to a military boot camp in Northern California. He isn’t even there an hour before he’s yanked into an orderly line of other recruitments, and once he hears the buzz of shears, he almost considers dropping the military entirely. 

See, Captain Logan always hated Ted’s hair. It was long, it was unorderly, and it was a big fat ‘screw you’ to the cop’s idea of what a true man should look like. Not a day went by that Captain Logan wouldn’t chastise his son for having such long hair, even threatening to cut it on his own on days where Ted got especially wordy. At first, it was annoying that his dad would bark at him for something as trivial as appearance, but after a while, Ted began to love the idea that his dad couldn’t control this one thing about him. So eventually the hair grew longer and longer until it was an unbearable shag hanging in front of his face. 

But as Ted nervously stands in line to have his head shaved, it dawns on him that the old Ted was the one that held his hair in such high regard. The old Ted, who sat around all day, wasting time with a kid that left him without a second thought. Suddenly, the hair didn’t seem important anymore. Get rid of it all, he thinks. 

As he sits in a metal fold-out chair, with tufts of hair falling to the ground, Ted feels something inside of him shift. Gone was the old Ted, falling over his feet to catch every moment he could with his best friend. This was the new Ted, fiercely himself, even if his hair was cropped to a practical inch. 

After the cut, it isn’t long before Ted is knee-deep in Air Force practical training, doing more running and lifting than he’s ever done at home.

On the first day, when his general asks him what’s his two-mile run time, he laughs, thinking the hulking man was making a joke. He comes to realize that physical training isn’t at all a joke, and soon enough, he’s running two miles in under eleven minutes. Apparently, that’s an impressive time, because Ted is eventually considered to be the top of his group, receiving encouragement from his peers and leaders alike. 

It’s a weird feeling, to be praised, after eighteen years of being considered the loser everywhere he went. And as much as the military stood for everything Ted hated, it admittedly felt pretty good to finally be good at something. So, instead of resisting the change, he lets the new identity of a soldier consume him. It came easy too, especially now that he’s lost everything that made Ted, well, Ted. His shaggy hair was long gone, and his valley accent was slowly disappearing due to the ridicule he faced for the quirk. And Bill, who was arguably the biggest part of his being since he was born, had been gone the longest. For some reason, though, he’s the hardest thing to let go of.

One night, while Ted is drifting off to sleep in his horrible military-grade cot, a dreadful thought creeps into his head. Bill has no idea where Ted is. Ted had told his dad and Deacon to ignore Bill indefinitely, so there was absolutely no chance that Bill would know where his once-best friend ended up. Bill would come home eventually, and Ted would be gone. Without a trace, as if he was never there. 

After its birth, the thought haunts him every night as he drifts off to sleep. Often, Bill ends up in his dreams, and Ted wakes up feeling more heartbroken over the situation. He thinks about telling one of his fellow soldiers, or maybe even his PT Leader, but he knows exactly how that would end up, so he’s left to deal with the sickening guilt on his own. What a strange thing to feel for a friend.

The months continue to crawl by. Ted had been in Air Force PT for over four months, and although he felt like a new man, the shame of leaving Bill continued to eat him alive. It was an easy feeling to control for a while, with the only responsibility would be brushing away the unsavory dreams the minute Ted woke up. But now that the holidays hung over him like a storm cloud, it was hard not to think of his best friend constantly. 

It only gets worse once Ted releases he won’t be going home for Thanksgiving. Being so new to the program, all first-term soldiers were required to stay on base during the holiday week to make sure things stayed in order while higher-ups returned home. Ted’s family never did much on Thanksgiving, perhaps some frozen meals on glass china, so it wouldn’t even be his family making his stomach knot up with misery when the day arrived. It was the idea of Bill coming home and realizing Ted wasn’t there anymore. 

Ted pictures him knocking on the door like a child, wanting to see if Ted had a change of heart, undoubtedly ready to patch up whatever mistake was made. Maybe Missy had even made a place for Ted at their dinner table, positive that the boys would make up.

He would probably return daily, thinking Ted was just hiding away inside. But then eventually, he would hear from an acquaintance or maybe a stranger that Ted had moved on… moved on to the Air Force, of all places. Bill would realize what this meant for the two of them. He would then move on too. 

Ted thinks about that every second of every day. It is possibly the most heinous thing he could think of, but it fills his brain anyway.

December rolls around. Christmas carols had been clogging the airwaves for almost two months now, and everyone around Ted was clamoring to head home to see their families. And Ted, as much as he wants to go home and makes things right, can’t help but to still be shrouded by his guilt. 

On the last day of training, which is coincidently on Christmas Eve, soldiers are expected to be completely packed, ready to return home for the holidays. The dining hall is filled to the brim with soldiers, but in a matter of minutes, it's dropped down to almost no one, with families quickly scooping up their children to start their holiday as soon as possible. Last names continue to be called for pick up, and eventually, enough time passes for Ted’s worry to quadruple. He sits there for over an hour, wringing his hands in an attempt to calm his nerves. He knew that Captain Logan wanted him gone, but Ted would never think he would be abandoned for Christmas. 

Ted starts to weigh his options on where he could spend the week-long break when his name is called out across the hall. “Logan!” The general says, sticking his head through the heavy dining hall door. He looks tired. Ted feels bad for keeping him so long. “Your brother is here to pick you up.”

Had Deacon already got his license while Ted was away? Had he really been gone that long? Ted starts to worry about missing out on such an important milestone of his brother’s, but those thoughts vanish as soon as he sees who’s really here to pick him up. 

“Hey, bootlicker, long time no see.” 

As soon as he meets Bill’s eyes, he wants to run across the hall and into the forest surrounding the base, never to see the other boy ever again. He would have done it too, but he’s wrapped in a hug before he can make a move.

Back when they were friends, Bill and Ted never hugged. Even if the occasion called for it, it was quickly brushed away and replaced with a few slurs to hide the tenderness of the moment. But this hug, it feels different. Bill is holding Ted extremely tight, standing up on his tip-toes to reach Ted and the new height acquired from his military-grade combat boots. It’s almost like an apology without saying anything. And Ted, not quite over what Bill had done to him, rejects the apology, standing straight as a board against the tender embrace. 

“Your hair. It’s shaved.” Bill says, pulling away, almost this as if his friend was unaware of this fact. 

Without noticing, Ted raises his hand to his head, feeling the cropped hair under his fingers. It was the first time he let the meaning of the haircut creep into his emotions. As much as he feels like crying, he feels his mouth flatten into a straight line. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s what they do in the military.”

Bill nods, understanding the mood instantly. “Let’s get you home.” 

Once reaching the parking lot, Ted is surprised to see that Bill had gotten a new car - a pea-green van that was more a bucket of bolts than a vehicle. But a car is a car, and it was more than either of them had throughout high school. They would sometimes they would fantasize about buying a van to use for touring, even going as far as contacting sellers from the newspaper. But with barely enough money to keep the two of them snacking regularly, the van was reserved as a pipe dream for when Wyld Stallyns really took off. 

Bill must notice Ted staring at the van, cuz he clears his throat, unlocking the door and climbing in the high driver’s seat. “Pretty excellent, right?” He says. “My old man got it for me as a grad gift.”

Ted had no idea all they had to do to get a touring band was to just ask Bill’s dad. It makes sense now though, considering that Bill’s dad was able to get a lot of things for his son, like a college education. Ted swallows the lump in his throat. “Why’re you here to pick me up?” He almost doesn’t recognize the strained voice talking to his former best friend.

The question sits unanswered as Bill turns the keys in its ignition, resulting in a series of rickety sputters. Ted almost repeats himself, but Bill makes a sound, obviously stalling. “Well...” He says, staring at the dashboard, eyebrows sinched. “I thought you would have liked it if I did.”

Ted wants to nod vigorously in response, spitting out every apology he could for ignoring Bill for so long, gripping his hand just to make sure he’s still there. He wants to say how sorry he is for being such a dick, and for shutting him out while he hid away in military school. But then he remembers why he’s in military school in the first place. “Take me home. Please.” The voice that leaves his mouth sounds so foreign. So cold. 

Bill opens his mouth to respond, but then clenches it shut, obviously knowing there wasn’t much he could say in this instant. Nothing could fix this, so it wasn’t worth trying. Everything was too far gone. 

The ride back to San Dimas wasn’t a bogusly long one, maybe ten hours, but with all the tension, even a few minutes seemed most unbearable to Ted. 

In the early days, they would undoubtedly be able to fill up the quiet lull with excited chatter, talking in tandem like an old married couple. Sometimes, even silence was welcomed, and the boys would be able to sit comfortably, simply enjoying each other’s company. 

But between the months of zero contact and Ted’s fuming energy, there was no way either of them could fall into their old ways. Instead, tension electrifies between them. 

Ted’s solution is to shut his eyes and pretend to fall asleep, avoiding any further interaction with Bill. But after months of unrestful nights spent on metal military cots, the cushy seat of the van seems overwhelmingly welcoming. He doesn’t notice when he loses consciousness, falling into a deep, dark sleep, only waking up with the sharp jerk of the van throwing on its breaks. 

It’s late afternoon now, sun hanging low in the sky, burning through the windshield. Ted, blinks eyes coming into focus. They’re pulled over to the side of the highway, and Bill has his hands in his hair, nervously trying to start the car. 

Ted considers to pretend like he never woke up, but Bill looks over before he can retreat. “This van sucks.” He says, obviously exhausted. And for a second, Ted smiles, finding the humor in Bill’s bleak statement in such a dire situation. He stops himself though, mouth flattening. “I gotta get home for Christmas.” Once again, he’s surprised at how rigid he sounds.

Bill glares at him, clearly mulling over what choice words to spit at Ted. “You act like it's my fault.” And although Ted thinks he wanted to sound venomous, he just comes across as shattered. 

Good, Ted thinks. Let him feel that way. 

As Bill gets out of the car to find a solution, Ted nods back off, satisfied with the tone he felt with Bill moments before. This time, he hits the point of sleeping that holds dreams, but by the time Bill wakes him up, every sleep-filled thought disappears. 

Bill stands outside Ted’s passenger-side window, motioning for him to roll down the window. Ted does as he’s told, cranking the window down in a few decrepit rotations. “Some mom is gonna give us a ride to the city,” Bill says. 

“To San Dimas?” Ted asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“If it was San Dimas I would have said that.” Once again, Bill sounds most tired. Tired of the van, tired of the day, and especially tired of Ted. “Get your stuff. She’s waiting.”

The woman’s car is not the highest of luxuries, littered with Cheerios and candy wrappers, but Ted is very grateful that he wouldn’t have to be spending the night on the side of the road with Bill. That would be very close to Hell. 

Bill somehow got shotgun, which is fair, because he flagged down the car. Ted was in the backseat, sandwiched between a freshly-hatched baby and a babbling toddler. It had been so long since he had seen any children. If he wasn’t a stranger, Ted would probably be all over them, setting up some imaginary world to entertain the kids, just like he would when Deacon was little.

They learn that they’re outside a small beach town called Bodega Bay, which was a few hours from San Dimas. With it only being seven o’clock, Ted figures that he could get in contact with his dad, somehow get him to come rescue him from Bill, then spend Christmas at home, just as he wanted so badly. 

They also learn that their driver is named Marley, and her two kids were Arnold and Wendy. Marley goes on for several minutes about her life and her kids, but Ted doesn’t mind. It had been ages since he had heard anything so inherently nurturing and kind. Eventually, she returns the conversation to the boys, asking what they were doing with their ‘budding futures.’ 

“I’m training to be an Air Force pilot, Miss.” Responds Ted.

Bill turns around. “A pilot?” He sounds dumb-founded. 

“Yes. A pilot.” Ted says simply, hiding his anger for the sake of Marley and the kids filling the car. “In less than two years I’ll be deployed.”

Marley hums, pleased with the nobility of it all. “How wonderful…” She says, looking up, smiling back at Ted through the rear-view mirror. “Thank you for your service.”

Thank you for your service. Ted wants pride to bloom inside his chest when he hears that statement for the first time, but it sits in his stomach like a rock. He doesn’t get to dwell on it too long, because Bill throws him off of his thoughts in a matter of seconds. 

“What about you? Military as well?”

“No, ma’am,” says Bill. “I go to California State’s School of Nursing.”

This would be a moment where Ted dramatically spits out his drink in shock if he had one. “Nursing?” Ted says, unable to hide his surprise. 

Now it’s Bill’s turn to turn his nose up at his friend’s confusion. “Yes. Nursing.” He says, looking at Ted, up and down. “Surprised?”

“Isn’t it a little dangerous for someone who paid to get into college to become a nurse?” Ted says this quickly, and it’s harshness automatically reflects on Bill’s face. He looks absolutely crushed. “Fuck you, dude.” He says quietly, and instantly, Marley chirps a warning of ‘language!’

Ted shrugs, looking out the window. “It’s true.” He says, trying to ignore the guilt pooling in his belly. “What’s gonna happen when you fuck up on a patient and your dad can’t pay you out of that one?”

That was worse. So much worse. Bill’s eyes widen and his face flushes into a deep red, either from embarrassment or anger. “Fuck you, Ted!” He shouts in response. 

Even after months of being yelled at by colossal drill sargents, somehow this was the most unnerving. Ted knew he had changed himself, but seeing Bill so angry seemed like the shock of a lifetime. If there was anywhere to escape to, he would undoubtedly hide away from the world and start bawling. He hated it. He hated all of it.

It isn’t long after Bill’s outburst that Marley pulls over and lets the two boys out. She had an appointment she forgot about and desperately had to get there. Ted doesn’t question why anyone would have an appointment at five in the evening. He already feels bad enough.

Luckily, she let them off in an inhabited part of the small beach town, an area that seemed like a dream destination for tourists during the summer. But with it being winter, only a small amount of locals were left, milling around the street of taffy stores and t-shirt vendors. 

“I’m gonna find a phone,” Ted says quietly, unsure why he was still talking to Bill at all, although he was the one who had cut so deeply. 

He ends up finding one in a store that sells shells and other beach supplies. “Phone’s by the bathroom.” The man behind the counter is most gentle and very kind. His voice almost makes Ted start crying. 

It takes a minute for him to remember his home number after so many months of going without contact with his family. But after a few tries, he figures it out, successfully punching the number in. Deacon answers and tears spring into Ted’s eyes. “Hi, Deac,” Ted says quietly. “Merry Christmas.”

“Ted!” Deacon says. Ted can’t help but picture his little brother's toothy smile. He wonders if he’s gotten braces yet. “Where are you? You were supposed to be home hours ago.” 

“I know, dude. Car troubles.” Ted bites his lip, in an attempt to stop the waterworks. “Where’s dad?”

“At the station. There was some big robbery downtown. He said he won’t be back until much later tonight.” 

Ted’s heart breaks. He pictures Deacon spending the holiday alone, waiting for his brother and his father. “You’re all by yourself?”

“No.” Deacon says slyly. Ted pictures his grin, even across the phone. “Ashley Christopher is coming over.”

“You dog!” says Ted, a glint of laughter peaking through his broken voice. “It’s Christmas!”

“She’s Jewish, Ted. No Christmas for her. But I’ll still be getting a present if you know what I mean.” Deacon falls into a fit of giggles, while Ted cringes, trying not to picture the scene. “When will you be home?” Deacon then asks after he’s done laughing. 

“Not until tomorrow, I think, since Dad’s at work and can’t come and get me.” Ted sighs, thinking about how he wouldn’t be experiencing the one day he had been waiting for so long. “I’ll talk to you later. I don’t have any more quarters.”

“That’s okay. Merry Christmas, Ted,” says Deacon. “See you soon!”

Ted hangs up before he starts crying. On his way out, he makes sure to thank the man at the counter. The man must notice something wrong because he looks at Ted with a sad look. “Is everything okay, young man?”

Ted nods. “Yessir. Just family stuff.”

The man nods back at Ted, looking like he understood everything just from that sentence. “Christmas can be a strange time. Are you spending alone? Without your family?”

I might as well be, thinks Ted. But instead, he shakes his head. “I have my friend.” Friend seems like such a foreign word to use when referring to Bill, but he can’t think of anything else. 

The man hums. “Friends can be family too. Make sure to show this friend how grateful you are for him. It’s what Christmas is all about.”

Ted studies the stout man sitting behind the counter of the googley-eye encrusted shells, wondering if he was an angel or something. Sent from God to give Ted a verbal beat-down. Like the Christmas Carol or something. “I will,” Ted says quietly. “Merry Christmas, sir.” 

“Merry Christmas to you too,” The man says. Just as Ted is about to leave the store, he adds on to his statement. “And thank you for your service!”

For someone who was going to be a soldier for the rest of his life, he sure does hate that more than anything. Ted just smiles weakly in response, then leaves in a hurry. 

He weaves in and out of fudge stores and seafood restaurants, fortune tellers, and candy shops, searching high and low for Bill. Ted ends up getting distracted in a small chocolitare, choosing to buy two heaping cups of hot chocolate with what he had left in his wallet. It’s hot and it’s sweet, everything Ted wanted to comfort him in the blistering cold. He finds a bench, and sits there for a while, nursing the cocoa and keeping an eye out for Bill. 

It’s only a few minutes later that Bill approached Ted, hands shoved in his jacket, hunched over from the temperature. “Dude… it’s like, extraordinarily cold.” Bill says, chattering a bit.

“I know. I got you this.” Ted says softly, handing Bill the cup of cocoa, almost as that was apology enough. Bill smiles slightly. “Thanks.” He says taking it from him. “I’m sorry this happened by the way. I even tried to call Missy and my Dad to come get us, but then I remembered they’re in Hawaii.”

Ted shrugs. “It’s okay.”

They sit there for a moment, silently drinking, enjoying the Christmas atmosphere, and trying to ignore the hateful things they said earlier. If they were going to spend the rest of the night together, they would have to swallow their distaste and hatred.

“I found a place on the beach we can stay at, if you want,” Bill says. “The renter wasn’t too happy that I was calling so late, but she said we could go get the keys from her office if we decided soon.”

Ted thinks back to a few hours ago when he was revolted by even the sight of Bill. Spending the night with him would be even more heinous, but for some reason, even after all the horrible things they spat at each other in the car, Bill, at this moment, seems like home. “Well, we can’t sleep on the street,” Ted says practically, although he wants to say so much more. 

Bill nods and leads him to the real estate office, where the keys would be waiting. It’s a quick exchange, and soon enough, Bill and Ted have squared away in their beach house for the night. 

It’s a small thing, making up of a single room that unitedly served as the bedroom, living room, and kitchen. A tiny bathroom stems from the back, too. Although there’s only one bed, thankfully there’s a couch pushed against the far wall, proving reassurance that neither of them would have to draw any closer than they were now. 

Bill goes to open up the curtains, and Ted sits on the edge of the couch. “Now what?” Ted asks.

Bill shrugs, looking out at the beach. Ted almost stands to join him, but being that close seems too daunting. “I have some bud in my backpack,” Bill says, looking back. “We could go out to the beach, spark up like old times.” He’s barely finished speaking before Ted cuts him off. 

“Can’t,” Ted says, motioning to how he was still wearing his Air Force fatigues. “Against the rules.”

Bill makes a small sound of realization. “True. That makes sense.”

“‘Bad for you anyways,” Ted says, using a tone that sounds shockingly unlike him. But really, who was he anymore? Bill makes another sound, instead of responding. Silence then creeps in between them, and Ted feels his skin crawling. 

“We can still go to the beach if you want,” says Bill. 

“It’s so cold,” says Ted.

“Then put on a jacket.”

“I don’t have one.” 

Bill looks at Ted in a tired way. Not in an ‘I haven’t slept in a long time’ kind of way, but the way people look tired after a funeral. “Take my jacket then, asshole.” He shrugs off his tattered denim jacket and tosses it at Ted. 

“But what about-”

Bill cuts him off with a sharp look. “Stop.” 

Ted swallows, tugging on Bill’s jacket over his Air Force t-shirt. He watches as Bill then takes out a long-sleeved shirt, bright red and brandishing the mascot of his new college. What a strange and beautiful thing, to see Bill all buttoned up in a university shirt. So boyishly shaggy, like every other college student, but also so, so overwhelmingly smart. At this moment, there is no one smarter than Bill. “I like your shirt,” Ted says, and it comes out very sad. 

“Thanks, dude.” Bill mirrors Ted’s broken tone. “Come on.” 

There’s a sliding door that leads out to the porch, and stairs leading down to the sand dunes. Neither of the boys speak as they pad out to the shore, squinting against the chilly air. The billowing wind has calmed by this point, and now the beach is still, completely empty. 

Bill treads out to the sloshing mouth of the shore, but Ted looms back, sitting down on a dry bundle of sand. He watches as his childhood best friend removes his shoes, rolls up his jeans, and wades into the water. Bill doesn’t go out very far at all, only allowing for the water to reach up to his mid-calve area, prickling the hem of his adjusted pants. 

Ted turns, adjusting his line of sight to the rest of the beach, instead of staring at Bill wallowing in the ocean. After so many months of physical training, it seems strange to be surrounded by an environment so foreign. It was almost like when he would go to a summer camp as a kid, and when he returned, his house seemed most atypical, like someone had snuck in and moved everything just an inch or two. In the time he had spent in such a sterile and militarized territory, the serene environment of the beach seemed to swallow Ted alive. 

He’s deep in panicking thoughts when Bill appears in front of him. “Is this spot taken?”

Ted wants to grin at the comment, but his heart is too busy beating out of his chest. “Go ahead.” 

Bill dries off his legs with the sleeve of his shirt, Ted watching intently the whole time. They accidentally catch eyes, and Bill smiles. “What?” He says as if Ted is keeping some kind of big, mischievous secret from him.

Ted shrugs. “I just really like your shirt.” Ted did like his shirt. It was red, Ted’s favorite color, (and presumably California State’s color), emblazoned carefully with an outline of the state and a stethoscope. 

Bill smiles again, a satisfied look spreading across his face. “That’s good, cuz I got it for you.”

“For me?” Ted says, confused. “Why’re you wearing it, then, and I got your nice jacket?” It was a nice jacket. It was lined with something fuzzy, probably fleece or sherpa. Way warmer than a University t-shirt, as smart as it made Bill look.

“Honest?” Bill asks, and Ted nods. “I didn’t want to give you something if you hated me,” Bill says simply, although sounding extraordinarily sad. 

Ted struggles to find words. “I don’t hate you.” That’s all he can choke out. With his recent actions, he doesn’t think he sounds convincing. Bill’s reaction confirms that. 

“It’s okay, dude. I get it. It’s different now.” He says. It’s simple, but it makes Ted’s chest hurt. “Besides,” Bill says, offering a weak smile. “You look better in denim than I do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude.”

It’s so quiet after that, the only sound being the lapping waves and soft gusts of wind. Soon, Ted feels that it’s his turn to make an attempt at conversation. “Why’d you choose nursing?”

Bill ponders this, shuffling his feet in the sand. “Well… I felt like if I was going to go to school with an unfair advantage, I should at least do something that could help people.” 

Ted hums. “You have always been good at taking care of people.”

“That’s the only nice thing you’ve said to me in like… six months,” Bill says. He doesn’t say it with a mean spirit, more if he’s pointing out a fact. 

Ted argues anyway. “Well, you are!” He thinks back to all the times that Bill had comforted him while he was sick, sad, or hurt. The memories spanned back years, back to when they first met as children, and Bill would kneel next to Ted after he had skinned his knee, or fell off the monkey bars. Even when they got older, and started dealing with more intense emotions and important events, Bill was always there to console Ted. It’ll be okay, Ted. You’ll feel better, Ted. Let me help you, Ted. 

Seemed so far off to where they are now. 

“I mean it, Bill. You really have a gift.” Then, as an afterthought: “I’m proud of you.”

Bill tilts his head, studying Ted. “Yeah?” This is all he says. He sounds like he’s close to tears, but Ted can’t tell with it being so dark on the beach.

“Totally.” Then, in a quick motion, he takes Bill’s hand and gives it a quick squeeze. Nothing more, and nothing less, just the joining of their hands. A physical showing of reassurance. For some reason, he feels like his hand is on fire. “Sorry,” Ted says, letting go of Bill's hand, and folding his own in his lap. 

“It’s okay, Ted,” Bill says evenly. “In college, dudes touch each other a lot, and it’s not a big deal.”

Ted looks over at Bill, brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“You looked so scared to take my hand. You were always like that. Scared to show me any affection, even if we were best friends at one point.” Bill says, avoiding eye contact. “In college, it’s different, though. Dudes touch each other all the time, and no one is afraid of being called gay for it.”

Ted’s mind floods with thoughts of Bill doing things with dudes. Just the thought of him hugging another guy makes his face flush. “We don’t do that in the Air Force.” He mumbles meekly, and Bill just nods. “Yeah. I know.”

He hates that Bill knows this about him. Bill probably thought about Ted often, too, as he changed and grew to be like the other men who surrounded him at school. As he learned that San Dimas was just a drop in the pond called life, he figured out that his best friend Ted was exactly the same. Safe, boring Ted, who snaked away to the military instead of facing his problems head-on. Ted who abandoned everything he stood by. Ted who was no longer Ted. He wonders how often that Bill thinks this. If he’s thinking it right now. 

“I don’t think it’s gay, either,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth, almost against his will. 

Bill looks up, squinting in the darkness. Or perhaps he’s eyeing Ted with confusion. That only makes Ted want to explain himself more. “I know you think I’m the kind of dude who would think that would be gay, but I’m not. I’m just like the guys at your college.” 

Bill continues to stare at Ted, blanketed in confusion. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Ted sighs, exasperated that his word vomit didn’t suffice in explaining. He lets his thoughts roll around in his head, then finally answering his friend in a low, quiet voice. “You can touch me if you would like.” 

“Would you like me to touch you?”

“Yes. I would.” 

Somehow that short string of words was enough for the two of them to realize what they both deeply desired. Too petrified to move, Ted stays still, and Bill leans in, taking his hand again. “Are you asking me to kiss you?” His voice is almost a whisper, barely audible against the crashing waves. 

Ted can’t answer him, instead staring back with his huge brown eyes. Eventually, he manages a slight nod, and that’s enough for Bill. Gently, he reaches forward and places it on his jaw, almost as if Ted was a terrified animal. Bill studies him for a second, his eyes jutting around his face. 

“What?” Ted says, scared that there was already hesitance.

“Nothing,” Bill says back. “I just missed you.” Then he kisses Ted. Gentle, soft, and sweet, still treating the other boy as if he would run away at any moment. It takes a second for the two boys to warm up, but eventually, they’re wrapped up in each other's arms like it’s a movie, kissing in a way that most people only experience once in their lives.  
They stay like that for longer than they should, eventually leaning back into the sand as if it was the most comfortable bed in the world. Eventually, they find themselves in an actual bed, back at their rented room. There’s no worry about the lack of space between them, no fear of awkward silence. After so long apart, they felt like they needed to make up for all the lost time, peppering each other’s sandy bodies with soft kisses. There isn’t much to say either, with their movements somehow explaining everything that should be expected to say in such an intimate moment. Neither of the boys say anything until the sun starts to rise, peeking through the lacy drapes.

“Now what?” Bill says, leaning up on his elbow. Although Ted can tell he’s trying to mask his worries, his furrowed eyebrows give it away. 

“What do you mean?” Ted answers.

Bill shrugs, still holding the bothered look as he looks down at the rustled sheets. “We go home for Christmas, and then what? I go back to school and you go back to base?”

Ted takes a second to think. He’s never one to think very far, but somehow this seems most troubling. Maybe the most troubling thing he’s thought about in a while. But somehow, he knows exactly what he wants in an instant. “Well, I’m staying with you, for one.”

Bill looks up with a sudden bright look in his eyes, but it fades quickly. “But isn’t your dream to be a pilot?”

“You know better than me that the military was always my dad’s dream. Never mine.” Ted says, then taking his best friends hand. “I’m gonna follow you now, dude. Whatever you want, wherever you are, I’m there. Cuz fuck the US military, dude.”

Bill smiles, unable to disguise the pure love spread across his face. “Fuck them.”

And somehow, that short exhange fixes every worry that could have crossed the two of their minds. Ted can’t help but grin. “Merry Christmas, Bill.” He says, settling his head on his lover’s chest.

“Merry Christmas, Ted.” Bill says in response. 

Ted closes his eyes, and before he falls back into a warm, comfortable sleep, he can’t help how this is, by far, the most beautiful thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry early Christmas everyone! I know I haven't posted in a long while, but my first year of university hit me like a truck. I hope to write a few more fics for y'all before I go back to school :) I'm always welcome to suggestions as well. Sometimes the initial idea is harder to make than the real story
> 
> Follow me on twitter @mostexceIIent (the I's are L's!) and please leave a comment if you enjoyed. I'm so lonely lol
> 
> (also im not sure if i want to write a part two. let me know if it's warranted)


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